Tomione Drabble and Prompt Collection
by ibuzoo
Summary: These are prompts and asks from my tumblr account, feel free to leave a prompt aswell.
1. Leave a drabble

This is a collection of drabbles from several asks and prompts on tumblr.

Some are really short, others can be a bit longer.

You can always leave me a prompt on: ibuzoo . tumblr . com


	2. My pressure on your hips

**My pressure on your hips (sinking my fingertips into every inch of you)**

_prompt: Tom left handed_

They have five minutes that's all the time they can spare, five minutes until they need to part ways and be who they are out in Hogwarts' aisles, the heir of Slytherin and the heart of Gryffindor.

'We need to go,' she says, licks and tastes at Tom's underlip, his teeth scratching and biting and sucking deeper, on her skin, on her neck, scraping over the thin layer of skin and leaving red marks and there's nothing tender in it, not this time but she repeats, tugs at his dark hair, speaks, 'we need to go,you need to go.' But Tom doesn't stop just grins against the hollow of her neck and he presses his fingers in her side, _(left hand, left hand, she thinks, why didn__'__t i notice before?)_ probably leaving marks on her hips and curve and flesh, a memento for his presence, his possession and Hermione wants him gone, wants to push away _(her hands won__'__t leave him tho, tug him closer, warms up her own skin)_. Tom's scent is overwhelming and she can pick the ingredients to pieces by now, the aftershave, the shower gel, the lingering smell of sea salt and white tea and lime that's magically clinging to his body and every pore _(what does it say about her that she knows that, what does it say about them?)._

She feels his hands digging deeper into her delicate skin, she close her eyes and breaths.

_(When she enters the DADA classroom twenty minutes later, lips red and kiss swollen, hair messier then usual, nobody comments on it, nobdy dares)_


	3. I feel it in my veins, skin, bones

I felt it in my veins, skin, bones (that i'm losing you,me)

_prompt: tattoes and kisses, bruises_

‚Mine', Tom presses, butchers her delicate skin with his lips and teeth, scratches over rosy pink to leave dark red marks, stains in shapes of rose petals and she feels them burn like the first snow, pure and waiting for the scrape of his fingers to ruin her skin, his mouth raw as the cold winter moon.

_(in truth, she likes the pain)_

‚Yours', Hermione breathes, shudders when she feels his lips clawing and rasping at her neck, her shoulders to leave tattoos and souvenir in shapes of rose petals she treasures and he feels his blood and bones longing for her as red as Eve's apple, a passion that lingers under, her body a temple as hot as the burning summer sun.

_(she knows, she deserves it)_


	4. My thoughts they've slipped away

_(She writes him, started it months ago when he first stayed over after late night discussions and kisses that tasted of cinnamon and lime and the cheap Chinese food they ordered in. She writes little notes and leaves them at the first page of the book he__'__s reading currently, knows that it won__'__t last long cause he reads with the rapidness of a machine gun, devouring the novels to there core and she knows that her little notes are mere glimpses he treasures when morning there are pieces and thoughts she can__'__t write down but reading between the lines was something he mastered from the start.)_

1.

I can't believe you didn't try and talk to me after yesterdays fight. You didn't even left a message.

_**(I miss you so much I can**__**'**__**t breathe.)**_

2.

I miss waking up next to you when you stay over. I miss the way you smell and drench my sheets. I miss your hands curling around my hair, my face, my skin. The way you grumble at me for leaving half-empty mugs everywhere or stealing your book so you can't find where you stopped hours ago. The way your eyes move when reading, following the sentences and words.

_**(The way you smile even if it**__**'**__**s a cruel one.)**_

3.

Abraxas called to let me know that you'd got the book i gave him. He seems to think we're over our fight.

Are we? I want to be.

I can't breathe. I can't send you the letters I want to send.

_**(**__**I miss you like oxygen.**__**)**_

4.

It has been days. You weren't supposed to go.

_**(will you come back?)**___

5.

Do you still love me?

_**(I don**__**'**__**t want you to.)**_

+1

12:35 p.m, Starbucks, Belvedere Rd.

_**(I don**__**'**__**t like myself without you)**_


	5. Everything's made to be broken

_This was a prompt from tumblr, a lovely anon who wanted Tomione and something sad. So all the blame is on the anon._

_As always if you want to leave a prompt, leave it in my inbox at .com._

* * *

_'You have reached the voicemail of Tom Marvolo Riddle. Leave a message if you must insist and i'll get back to you some time this decade. If it's an urgent message you should mention it, chances may be high that i'll get back to you faster.'_

I cancel the call before your voicemail starts recording again, no need for more minutes of silence on your message bank, broken only by my trembling breathing. There's silence in the room but the beating of my heart, tries desperately to drum and claw at my ribcage and i can feel blood rushing in my head, my veins, the only witness of the scars cut deep in myself.

**(i wish this was the story of how i became bitter)**

I press redial and hold the phone up to my ear again.

_'You have reached the voicemail of Tom Marvolo Riddle.'_

Your voice is so alive, a little amused and sarcastic, i remember you smirking at me while you recorded this as though actually having a personal greeting on your voicemail was beneath you, as if you were taunting me and the world. I remember your mouth curling slightly up, your eyes flickering with something dark, something that drew me in so lang ago.

It's getting harder to breath.

**(i wish this was the story of how i became evil)**

_'Leave a message if you must insist and i'll get back to you some time this decade.'_

Without you, Riddle Manor is too starving, too dark, too silent. There are too many spaces where you should be, echoes of your presence in your favourite chair near the chimney, the library,can't bring myself to enter it without you. I can't sleep in the bed anymore, your sheets long cold and it's hard to breath in the faint scent of your aftershave. I can feel your fingers trailing down my spine, when the moon rises high, feel warmth rushing over my frame until i remember that your hands don't carry the heat of the living anymore.

**(i wish this was the story of how i became anaesthetic)**

_'If it's an urgent message you should mention it, chances may be high that i'll get back to you faster.'_

I hang up the phone before it starts recording again.

It's been two weeks since you died.

I drift through the house, the kitchen shouldn't be empty at half past six in the morning. You should be here and i can almost touch the ghost of your lingering face, coffee in hand and your hip cocked against the island bench, ready to go to work while you think about creating impossible things in your head, thesis and brilliant masterpieces of written words and megalomaniac ideas of the future.

All gods who receive hommage are cruel.

**(instead it's the story of how i cared so much that it hurts)**

I can't sleep anymore, your shirt i'm wearing to bed clings to my body from the cold sweat that drenches me as soon as the night crawls in. When I close my eyes all I see is the hole in your body, a gashing wound at your neck and chest and red, red everywhere, blood bubbling from your lips when i try to kiss you between sobs and tears and desperate cries, blood on my hands while i try to press down on your shredded skin, blood on your perfect pale frame, drenching your sallow flesh in different shades of pink and ruby.

I remember the light disappearing too quickly from your eyes.

**(it still hurts)**

I can hear your last word every time there's silence, hear the crackle and bubbling, the swallowing and gulping and breathing and deadly rattling.

You were drowning in your lungs when you whispered my name.

Hermione.

I dial your number again, because I can't stand to hear the echo of that voice in my mind.

**(it doesn't stop)**

_'You have reached the voicemail of Tom Marvolo Riddle. Leave a message if you must insist and i'll get back to you some time this decade. If it's an urgent message you should mention it, chances may be high that i'll get back to you faster.'_

* * *

**i wish this was the story of how i became bitter **  
**i wish this was the story of how i became evil **  
**i wish this was the story of how i became anaesthetic**

**instead it's the story of how i cared so much that it hurts **  
**it still hurts **  
**it doesn't stop**


End file.
